Trimming the Tree
by Gypsy Rose2014
Summary: GABRIEL-VERSE! It's Christmas in the Holmes household and there are all sorts of games afoot. The twins are tired of waiting to trim the tree, Scarlett is preparing for a dance recital and Gabriel's just fifteen. What will happen when Sherlock is confronted with the fact that eight- year old Scarlett is no longer a baby? And why do the twins need hedge clippers?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Happy Christmas, everyone! Just another of my silly Christmas things to make your holiday brighter. I hope it hits the spot and tickles your funny bone. Loves to all of you!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

One

"Daddy, when is it going to be time to decorate the tree?" Will asked, toddling over to Sherlock. He tried climbing into his father's lap, but a computer and three case files were blocking his path. The tree in question stood in the corner of the room, completely bare of ornaments and fairy lights. They'd gone to buy the tree a few days previous but hadn't managed to find the time to finish the decorating.

"Soon, Will," he replied as he tapped away.

"But when?"

Sherlock sighed. "When I'm done, Will. Besides, we have to wait for everyone to come and help. In the meantime, why don't you draw a picture with your brother?" He pointed to Finn who was furiously drawing a picture of Father Christmas.

"He don't share his Crayolas." It was true. The twins had been arguing all day over their toys. While Finn normally had a generous disposition, he was recovering from a sinus infection and had been extraordinarily fussy.

"Then watch telly. Or go play with Scarlett. Your mum will be home soon." Sherlock ruffled the little boy's dark curls before turning back to his laptop. Will wanted to whine but knew better. His father loathed whining and would get especially annoyed by it when he was working. Will didn't mean to be annoying, but he was anxious to decorate their small Christmas tree. He hadn't gotten to put any ornaments on the tree at his school earlier in the day. Something silly about clonking his brother with blocks during free play time. Finn was his own brother! He should be able to clonk him whenever he wanted. But the teacher said he was too rambunctious and had to sit down until it was time for Christmas biscuits and cocoa.

"Scarlett is mean, Daddy. I not want to play with her."

Sherlock started to protest, but even he knew that Will was probably telling the truth. At least for the last few days. Her dance class had their Holiday recital in a couple of days and Scarlett was the lead in her age group as the Sugarplum Fairy. It was her first dance solo and as zero hour approached, the eight year old had been much more peevish than usual, snapping at everyone including her mother and father. The latter of which had finally told her that morning that if she rolled her eyes at him once more she'd find herself unable to perform. She'd started to defend herself, but Gabriel had mouthed "shut it" from across the breakfast table. "She's not mean, Will. She's just nervous. But it doesn't sound like she's practicing right now, so you might try asking her to play with you."

"I'll pass," Will said, tromping over to the couch and flopping down.

"Will!" Finn exclaimed as his arm slipped with his brother's bouncing. It caused him to draw a long red streak across his paper. "You mess up my picture!"

"You were in my way!"

Soon the scene erupted into a war of "twinspeak" that drew Sherlock, Scarlett and even a broody Gabriel into the lounge. The three of them could only stand there gaping as the twins shouted at one another in their own language. It figured. Every time Sherlock thought he had it figured out, they'd change it. "Stop it! Both of you!" he shouted finally.

Both boys looked up at their father, immediately crossing their arms over their chests in defiance. "He mess up my picture!" Finn said with an accusatory point.

"I didn't mean to!"

"Look, the two of you have been at each other's throats all day and I can't take it anymore!" Sherlock shouted. "Go up to your room and stay there until your mother gets home!"

"But—" they replied in unison.

"Go!"

The two boys grumbled to one another as they trudged up the stairs to their bedroom. "Thank God," Gabriel said. "I've been listening to them argue since I got home. They're making it impossible to do my homework."

**OoOoOo**

Molly was very excited. She'd taken the day off to do some shopping on her own and it had been glorious. To a woman who had four children and Sherlock at home, any time away was a blessing. She'd even been able to meet Mary for lunch where they imbibed a glass of wine each before moving on to more shops. She just had one more stop before she could go home. Scarlett's dance costume had come in. Ever since the child had started taking dance four years ago, she'd been in several recitals and was always the standout. Her height and willowy frame made her the perfect picture of a ballerina. And her hearing impairment made her feel the music like none of the others so consequently, Scarlett had an expressive style of dancing that the others with their feet-watching could not duplicate. This dance recital was special. This time, Scarlett was dancing her very first solo. The youngest student ever to do so. Consequently, Molly was so proud and excited. She couldn't wait to try the costume on her daughter.

"Dr. Holmes!" the shopkeeper exclaimed as Molly entered the store. "I hoped you'd come in today!"

Molly smiled. The older lady was always so sweet. It was apparent that she handmade every costume that came through her shop. "Oh?"

"Yes! I finished Miss Scarlett's costume last night and it's just beautiful!" She pulled a garment bag from under the counter and held it up for Molly as she unzipped the front. "It was an older child's costume, but Scarlett is so tall, I knew it would fit her." The costume consisted of a sheer, silver colored leotard that had configurations of silver, pink and purple glitter swirls strategically placed. There was also a stiff tutu that was so glittery that it looked like it was made of starlight and candy floss. And then of course, a sequined skullcap that would fit snugly over Scarlett's head. "What do you think?"

"Oh! It's exquisite. I couldn't have imagined a more fairy-like costume." Molly could feel herself tearing up and the child hadn't even put it on yet.

"I'm so glad you like it."

Molly nodded and sniffled, pulling out her purse and digging out her wallet. She couldn't say anything as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. Her little Scarlett was no longer a baby. Like Gabriel, she had grown so much, no longer needing them. At fifteen and eight respectively, Gabriel and Scarlett had somehow become these independent people with personalities and talents all their own. While she was so proud of them, it made her melancholy for the days when Gabriel would wander into their bedroom in his skully t-shirt and Batman underwear or when Scarlett would sing "Happy birthday" while she brushed her teeth or sat on the toilet. Sherlock thought she was incredibly silly, arguing that Scarlett was only eight and hardly ready for university and that while Gabriel was fifteen, he wasn't exactly moving out on his own just yet. The phrase, "we are not going to have another baby every time you feel old" had been uttered more than once.

Molly hurried back to Baker Street, anxious to try the costume on Scarlett. The recital was in two days' time and if any alterations needed to be made they would have to do it quickly. They'd already had to order new shoes to match. The shop had ordered toe-shoes and while Scarlett was a very mature and talented dancer, she wasn't ready for pointe just yet. In fact, her teacher had very painstakingly choreographed a routine that would not require Scarlett to be en pointe.

"Scarlett!" she called, knowing the child would never hear her as she pushed her way through the front door. She didn't notice how quiet the house was. Suspiciously so. When she emerged in the lounge, Gabriel was at the table across from Sherlock, both of them tapping away on laptops and looking identical. The twins were noticeably absent. "Hello, you two," she said. They replied with simultaneous grunts. "Well, lovely to see you too, Mum," Molly grumbled.

Scarlett bounced down the stairs. "Oh hello, Mummy!" she said, hugging her tightly.

"Just who I wanted to see!" Molly exclaimed. "I brought your costume for the recital." Both squealed and raced upstairs. Gabriel and Sherlock never looked up.

**OoOoOo**

"I'm tired of sitting here," Will grumbled.

"Well it's all your fault," Finn started. "If you hadn't messed up my picture we could be downstairs watching telly right now." Finn sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve and glaring at his twin brother. "I'm telling Mummy."

"Don't be such a snitch!" Will learned an awful lot of words from his older brother. Snitch being one of them. "I didn't mean to mess your picture up. I was just bored. I wanted to decorate the Christmas tree."

"Daddy says we can't decorate it until tonight when everybody comes over," Finn defended.

Will shook his head. "No, that's the big tree at the other house."

"Well we get to decorate that one, but Scarlett says we're going to trim the one downstairs."

"Trim it?" Will looked very confused. "What do you mean?"

Finn shrugged and pulled his box of Lego bricks out from under his bed. He began sticking the blocks together in a crude design of a Christmas tree. "She just said we were going to trim the tree."

Will flopped down across his bed, thinking this over. Trimming a Christmas tree? What did that mean, anyway? It didn't seem to make sense. The last time he went with his daddy to the hair cutting shop, he'd told Miss Maxine that he just wanted a trim. When he asked what that meant, his daddy said that he just wanted her to cut a little bit off of his hairs. So trim must mean to cut a little bit. "Finn?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you think they want to trim the tree?"

Finn shrugged. "Maybe its branches got too long."

Will glanced over to the art table that he and his brother shared. Lying on top were their paints, some thick red and green paper and a pair of little plastic scissors. "Do you think they're going to trim it with scissors? 'Cuz those look kind of small."

"Of course not, dummy!" Finn said with a huff. "Nena has a big pair of scissors just for trees down in her closet." Finn was referring, of course, to a big pair of hedge clippers that she used to shape up the little potted tree in her little garden out back."

"So we have to trim the tree before we can decorate it?"

"I guess so."

Suddenly Will had an ingenious idea. "I know! Let's trim the tree for daddy now and that way when everybody gets here, it will be ready to decorate!"

Finn thought this over for a minute and finally shrugged. "Okay."

**OoOoOo**

"Oh Scarlett!" Molly's eyes went wide as her daughter stepped back, preening in her dance costume. "You're so beautiful!" The sparkling fairy costume fit perfectly. The sheer leotard might have been too revealing if it weren't for the glittery swirls that made it appear as if Scarlett were made of ice and sugar crystals.

Scarlett beamed. "Thanks, Mummy! Do I look like the Sugarplum Fairy?"

"Of course you do, darling! So much I could eat you up." She couldn't help herself and gathered the small girl in her arms, squeezing her tight. "I just can't believe how grown up you look."

"Mum… it's nothing," Scarlett said, her cheeks glowing. "It's just a costume."

Molly ignored her protests and kept right on squeezing the little girl tight. She was shaped just like Molly herself: lean and petite, almost elf-like with her delicate bones and features. Of course, she had Sherlock's height and towered over other girls her age. These things might be awkward for some children, but Scarlett carried herself like a dancer in all situations. This combined with her cherub features and impish grin made her an exceptional beauty. A beauty which had already begun to worry her father in the wee hours of the morning. "We have to show your father." She waited for Scarlett to put her shoes on before leading her down the stairs and into the lounge.

"Sherlock," Molly said. "Come and see Scarlett." Sherlock and Gabriel both looked up to see Scarlett carefully negotiating down the stairs in the slippery, soft-bottomed ballet slippers. Sherlock stood up and went into the lounge, a strange look crossing his features as she stepped into the light where he could see her properly. Molly beamed and tucked a stray red curl under the sparkly skullcap. "Isn't she beautiful?" Sherlock's expression was unreadable as he looked her over. Scarlett smiled and twirled, showing her costume off. "See, Scarlett, with those new clear hearing aids, you can barely see them."

The two chattered back and forth about the costume and how the skullcap was a little itchy. Gabriel even offered his compliments on his baby sister's beauty. Sherlock was eerily silent.

"What do you think, darling? Isn't she gorgeous?" Molly asked, sliding an arm around Sherlock's waist.

He exploded. "No! No! She does not look gorgeous! She looks… not like… a little girl at all!" He rushed across the room and grabbed his coat with such vigor that the coatrack fell over. He wrapped it around Scarlett and pushed her toward the stairs. "Go to your room, Scarlett. Cover yourself. Immediately!"

"But Daddy—"

"No. Run along," he said, shooing her up the stairs. "Put on clothes. Something warm. With layers!" Scarlett looked confused and somewhat hurt, but obeyed.

Molly's eyes were wide with anger as she watched Scarlett march up the stairs. Gabriel could see the writing on the wall and grabbed his coat. "I'm uh… going to walk down and see Katie," he said before racing down the stairs and out the front door.

"What. In the Hell. Is wrong with you?" Molly asked through clenched teeth.

Sherlock's jaw dropped as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Seriously? You cannot be serious, Molly."

"About?"

"My daughter," he squeaked. "My… _baby_… is not going to wear that out of the house! In front of people? Oh no. This will not happen."

"Are you high, Sherlock?" Molly asked.

"Are you? You can see her… abilities!" He was so flustered that Molly almost laughed in spite of herself. "Those glittery swirls… and you can see right through it!"

"She's just a little girl, Sherlock."

"Yes! She's my little girl. And she's not going to dance around in front of people in that… that… burlesque costume!"

"When did you become such a prude?"

Sherlock's voice began to crack as it climbed in pitch and volume. "Did you not see the outfit?"

"I picked it out!"

His eyes grew wider, if that was possible and he gasped. "You?!" he said, pointing at her with a violent and accusatory finger. "How… what…?"

"Sherlock, darling. You look like a fish gasping for oxygen…"

"This is no time for jokes, Molly! That's our little girl! Our baby! And you want to parade her around in some… risqué… exotic dancing get-up?"

"Sherlock, she's a ballerina. They have to be able to move their bodies."

"She can move all she wants to in jeans in a Christmas jumper." Before Molly could respond, the door downstairs opened and they could hear Mrs. Hudson talking to someone and then the beating of footsteps on the staircase.

Irene Adler had a particular talent for showing up at just the wrong time. Her timing, while comically perfect, was usually faulty. She emerged from the stairs with a multitude of bags piled in her arms. "Sorry, loves. It took me longer to get here than I thought." She dropped the bags on the floor in front of her to see Sherlock and Molly gaping at her with murderous intent. "What? Molly, dear. You do remember telling me I could stow some of my things for the children here, don't you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope that everyone's holiday has been memorable so far! This took a bit longer than anticipated due to holiday merrymaking, but I hope it was worth the wait! This story is so fluffy you'll never hear it coming! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the children.**

Molly paused, thinking back through the conversation she'd had with Irene earlier in the day. Despite Sherlock's best efforts, Irene had become a fixture in their lives. After eight years he'd just decided to stop complaining about it and she and Molly had slowly become friends. "Oh… yes. Sorry," Molly stammered. "We can put your stuff in the study if you like."

"Wherever is fine. I just know I'll never make it over here with all this stuff in a cab on Christmas Eve." She smiled and laid a big sloppy kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "Don't worry, love. I brought you something too."

"Let's hope it's nothing like the last Christmas gift you gave me," he grumbled.

Irene ignored him, taking up her bags and following Molly up the stairs. When they got into the study they began loading the bags into the wardrobe. Molly was silent and Irene could tell something was going on. She didn't want to pry, but the air was oppressively tense. "So… everything okay?" she asked.

"Mmmhmm," Molly lied, admiring the perfectly wrapped packages. "Did you do these yourself?"

"Oh God no. I hired someone to do it for me. I'm rubbish at Christmas wrapping." She smiled and finished putting the bags away. "I wanted to thank you, Molly."

"For what?"

"For inviting me for Christmas. I realize that I've been coming around for a few years now and I've never really told you how much it means to me."

"Oh don't worry about it. Of course you're invited."

"No really. Not many women would be so gracious, Molly. I'm really glad that we can be friends. And that you and Sherlock have allowed me to be part of Gabriel's life."

Molly laughed. "And not just Gabe. Scarlett and the twins have adopted you too."

"Well, I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate it."

"You're very welcome." Molly put the last of the bags into the wardrobe. "Were you going to drive down to Ambergris with us or just come later in the week?"

"I'll do whatever Gabe wants. I hear that Katie Adams will be coming as well. He probably won't have much time for me."

"Oh I doubt that," Molly said. "She's not coming until the day after—her father flies out that afternoon. And who knows, those two are on and off continuously. One minute we're catching them snogging in the corner, the next Katie is bringing back a big box full of Gabriel's things and saying they're through. But Gabe always has time for you."

"He is a darling, isn't he?"

"Even now as a broody teenager, he's still the sweet little boy he always was. He reads to his brothers every night and is always the first one to stand up and cheer for Scarlett when she dances, not to mention all the little chores and things he does around the flat. He still even hugs his father and me with unabashed affection. I keep waiting for him to come home with a tattoo and rings through his nose but it hasn't happened yet. My only complaint is that he refuses to cut his hair."

"Oh I know!" Irene agreed. "I told Sherlock he needed to make him cut it. It's almost past his shoulders."

"He won't! He thinks the stubbornness of his child is very amusing. Though he did make him pull it back to play with the orchestra the other night, observing that a homeless person in a tuxedo still looked like a homeless person. John Watson says he's going to wait until the boy is asleep and take the scissors to it."

**OoOoOo**

In all the excitement no one had noticed Will and Finn slip out of their room. The first step in their grand plan was to get downstairs to Nena's flat without detection. It seemed a hopeless endeavor until they heard their sister storming up to her room. Scarlett was having another of her famous tantrums. It would provide the perfect distraction. As soon as they saw their mother and Irene go into the study, they hurried down the stairs and slipped into Nena's entryway. The closet there was where they would find the big scissors.

"Will!" Finn hissed. "We not 'sposa touch big people stuff."

Will rolled his eyes. "We weren't 'sposa come out of our room either. Come on." The brothers worked as a team to climb up to the latch that had been installed high on the wardrobe door. Molly insisted that all of the cupboards where dangerous items were stored have locks. Mrs. Hudson kept all of her cleaning supplies, mops, brooms and other things inside along with the hedge trimmers. But Will, never one to be thwarted by locks, had devised a careful plan of how Finn could climb on his shoulders and flick the latch open so that they could open the door.

There was only one problem with stealing hedgeclippers out of the wardrobe. It was dark in there. "I don't wanna go in," Finn whined.

"Why not?" Will had never been afraid of anything ever in his life.

"It dark in there."

"So?"

"So I scared," Finn whimpered.

"Do you want to trim up the tree or not?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then we have to go in and get the tree scissors." He didn't wait for Finn to protest further and pushed his brother through the door and into the broom closet. He was careful to leave the door open a little so that they could see what they were doing.

"I don't see anything…" Finn said, his voice already quavering with fear. "We should just go back to our room before somebody catches us."

Will didn't respond but looked all around until finally, he spotted them hanging on the wall above. "Look! Finn! I found them!" They were hanging high on the wall, much too high for a four year old to reach. But luckily, a convenient set of shelves were right there waiting. "Okay, Finn…you're the littlest, so you climb up there."

"I'm not climbing up there!"

"Oh come on. I'd do it myself, but I'm too big."

"No!" Finn huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, poking his lip out in defiance.

Will rolled his eyes. "Fine. I have to do everything." With the dexterity of an elf (a Keebler elf, not a Lord of the Rings elf) Will scaled the shelves, knocking over boxes and bottles in his wake until he could almost reach the handle of the clippers.

The muffled sound of Sherlock and Gabriel's voices suddenly caused Finn to panic. "Hurry up, Will! Daddy's in the hallway!" He tugged at the cuff of Will's trousers insistently. That was all it took and the little boy was tumbling down, shelves collapsing like dominoes as he fell. "Are you okay?"

"Shush!" Will hissed, completely unconcerned that he'd almost been creamed by a large jug of bleach. He pushed past his brother and closed the door quickly as they could hear their father and brother come down the stairs.

_"__The noise came from down here," Gabriel said, sprinting down the stairs. "You don't suppose Nena fell do you?" _

_"__Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted. _

The twins heard their father and brother pass them by on their way to Mrs. Hudson's flat and both breathed a sigh of relief. A slow smile spread across Will's face as he clumsily held up the hedgeclippers. "Let's go trim the tree."

**OoOoOo**

Scarlett made a big show of storming out of her room with the balled up dance costume clutched in her fist. As Molly and Irene came out of the study, she shoved the costume at her mother. "Here," she snarled. "Take that thing back."

Molly took it, narrowing her eyes in surprise that Scarlett had folded so quickly. Of course, that didn't stop the small girl from signing angry words about her father as she turned back to her room. "Scarlett," Molly called. She glanced at Irene for help but her normally loquacious friend had nothing to say this time and could only shrug helplessly. The pair followed the child into her room where she again flopped dramatically across the bed and wailed as if the world were about to end. "Scarlett," Molly started again, sitting down beside her. "Why are you so upset?"

Scarlett snapped up. She began to sign to her mother so quickly that her fingers were a blur and the only sound that could be heard in the room was the angry slapping together of Scarlett's palms. She often resorted to going silent when she was angry. It was a defense mechanism that was iron-clad. Her parents couldn't decipher as quickly and didn't know many of the inappropriate signs that she'd learned being around the other deaf children at school. Only Gabriel was capable of understanding her when she got like this.

Molly gasped as she picked out one of the words. "Scarlett! Watch your mouth. I mean, your hands. Can you just talk, please?"

"Daddy is so mean!" was all Scarlett managed to get out before dissolving into sobs once more.

"Have I missed something important?" Irene asked, finally breaking her silence.

"Sherlock said she couldn't wear her dance costume we picked out. He thinks it's too revealing." She handed the clump of fabric to Irene who immediately unrolled and examined it.

"Oh that's ridiculous," Irene said, smoothing the leotard. "This is absolutely adorable. You'll look beautiful in it, darling."

"No I won't!" Scarlett whined. "Daddy thinks I look awful and he won't let me wear it!" Her speech was almost unrecognizable with the shuddery breaths.

"He does not," Molly interjected, brushing Scarlett's sweaty curls out of her face. "He thinks you look too beautiful in it." Scarlett wrinkled her nose in confusion and her mother laughed, gathering her in a big hug. "Seeing you in that outfit made him think about how you're not his baby anymore. You're a big eight year old girl that one day very soon will be all grown up."

"So?"

"So when you're grown up you might not need him anymore. You might like other boys better."

Scarlett seemed to consider this and shook her head vigorously. "That's stupid, Mummy. Nobody's as good as my daddy. Especially not other boys. The only boys I like are Daddy and Bre. And sometimes Will and Finn. And my John. And my Geg. And of course Uncle Mycroft. I like him most of the time."

Irene cleared her throat and stood up, pacing. "The problem we're having here is that Sherlock is a stubborn pain in the arse. We just have to make him think that Scarlett's outfit was all his idea in the first place. It's like that woman in that movie about the Greek wedding says, the father might be the head of the house, but the mother is the neck and she can turn the head any way she likes. And Sherlock is like a hydra. There's lots of necks to go around." Irene hugged Scarlett and kissed her cheek, leaving a big red lip print. "Don't worry yourself one more second. Between your mother and me, he'll be turning his head like the Exorcist."

**OoOoOo**

Mrs. Hudson was highly offended that Sherlock and Gabriel had assumed that she'd fallen and broken a hip. "I'm not ancient just yet you know!" she snapped. When they arrived in her flat she was buzzing about the lounge dusting while she watched the last of EastEnders.

"Bloody Hell! No one is suggesting you're feeble," Sherlock groaned. "We heard a crash that came from down here. Did you drop something?"

"No. Perhaps it was outside. You know those cars they run back and forth, up and down the street at all hours. No one watching their speed. It's no wonder they crash all the time."

Sherlock had filtered out most of what she said and was already heading back up the stairs. There was something very strange going on. That crash was inside the house. He and Gabriel hadn't crashed. Mrs. Hudson hadn't crashed. Molly and Irene were upstairs, but the sound was very definitely from below. That only left Will and Finn. Sherlock gasped and took the stairs two at a time. He glanced at his watch. He'd sent them up to their room more than an hour ago. "Damn," he rasped. "Molly's going to kill me if one of them is broken."

Of course, he needn't have worried. As soon as he emerged in the lounge he found them. Both boys sitting on the floor under the Christmas tree. Beside the twins, Cat the dog nosed around the bounty of evergreen foliage stacked all around them. It would have been a Christmas card-worthy picture if not for the tremendous hole in the tree where they'd hacked away at the branches with the set of hedgeclippers clutched in Will's hand.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock shouted.

Finn's green eyes were wide as he smiled, clearly proud of their efforts. "Trimming the tree, Daddy."


End file.
